by Wayne Smith
“What the hell is going on here?” Dad asked without a trace of amusement in his voice. He’d never seen the dog do anything like it before.
“I don’t know,” Uncle Ted lied. “But he’s been following me around all day. Even when I’m over the garage, he’s on the back stoop, watching the apartment door.”
“Jesus,” Dad whispered, and slowly shook his head.
No one else said anything, but Brett’s skin broke out in gooseflesh. He’d been feeling funny about Uncle Ted lately. It wasn’t a strong feeling at first, and he’d tried to shrug it off. Even when it blossomed into a genuine sense of foreboding, he hadn’t told anybody about it. Hell, he was supposed to be outgrowing his childhood fears, not adding to them — he was still afraid of the dark, for example, though he would eat hot coals before he’d admit it.
Thor’s actions seemed to confirm and legitimize the shapeless dread Brett felt around Uncle Ted. Without knowing why, Brett was secretly glad Thor was shadowing his uncle.
“I can’t believe this,” Dad said. He rubbed his chin and thought for a moment, then said, “Teddy, go follow Uncle Ted, but don’t let Thor leave the kitchen. Ted, do it again.”
Uncle Ted got up and left the room, this time with Teddy. As Uncle Ted walked through the kitchen door, Teddy hung behind. Thor got up and started toward the living room. Teddy stood in the doorway and blocked his path. Thor tried to use his snout as a wedge to push his way through, but Teddy held fast to the door frame. After a few tries, Thor grunted and plopped down on the kitchen floor just inside the doorway. He made no show of watching Uncle Ted, but he’d positioned himself in line of sight with the man.
“Let him through,” Dad said. Teddy stepped aside. Thor didn’t move. “Step away from the doorway,” Dad said. “Come in here and sit down.” Teddy returned to the kitchen table. By the time he reached his chair, Thor was in the living room.
“Now go back to the doorway and this time, keep him out,” Dad said. Teddy positioned himself and Dad called Uncle Ted back in.
Uncle Ted came back, and as before, Thor was right on his heels. But as Uncle Ted stepped through the kitchen door, Teddy stepped into the doorway.
This time Thor was not so easily put off. It was one thing to let Uncle Ted go off by himself unsupervised, but quite another to let him be alone with Mom and Debbie and Brett. Thor pushed hard with all his weight, and Teddy had to grip the door frame with all his strength to keep from being pushed aside. The harder Thor pushed, the tighter Teddy held.
Uncle Ted stood watching about halfway between the doorway and the kitchen table. He took a step toward the table and Thor growled. Mom’s eyes opened wide and Uncle Ted stopped. Thor stepped away from the door and barked sharply at Teddy. Teddy was startled by the unexpected rebuke, but held his ground.
Uncle Ted took another step toward the table and Thor barked viciously. It sounded like a last warning. Teddy held firm.
What happened next took less than five seconds from start to finish.
Uncle Ted walked to the table and sat down between Mom and Debbie. Thor lurched at the doorway and pushed his head through before Teddy’s thigh slammed his neck hard against the door frame. Teddy reached for the ring in Thor’s collar. In a move as fast as any the Pack had ever seen, Thor withdrew his head from the doorway and snapped at Teddy’s hand. He caught the boy’s wrist with a bite calculated to hurt without breaking the skin. Teddy shrieked in alarm and snatched his hand back. Thor knocked him over and shot through the doorway as Teddy pulled back. He charged into the kitchen as Dad leaped from his chair.
“What the fuck?” Dad yelled, springing at Thor and slapping his face in a blind rage. “What are you doing? Bad Dog! Bad Dog!”
Before Thor knew what was happening, Dad had snagged his collar and yanked hard, cutting off his wind and lifting his front legs off the floor.
Dad was flying on instinct. His only thought was to get Thor away from his family.
Thor choked and gagged but offered no resistance as Dad pulled him toward the cellar door.
He’d lost his head and he knew it. He was in fact the awful thing Dad was calling him over and over again.
Bad Dog.
Dad opened the cellar door with his free hand and swung Thor through the doorway, literally throwing him down the stairs.
“Bad Dog!” Dad shouted, and slammed the cellar door.
Thor couldn’t believe what he’d done. He’d known, even as he’d opened his mouth to bite Teddy, that it was wrong, it was Bad.
He slinked into the darkest corner of the cellar and lay on the dusty cement floor, staring straight ahead at nothing, feeling the awful weight of his Badness press down on him. If the cellar door were to open, he would retreat deeper into the corner. He needed to be alone in his moment of shame. He couldn’t bear to face the Pack.
He’d picked up a half dozen painful bruises on the way down the stairs, but was only marginally aware of the pain. His mind was overwhelmed with the wordless question:
What have I done?
He ran the incident through his mind again and again, trying to find where he went wrong, where he might have done something else. He only knew that in trying to do what was right, he’d done wrong. He’d done the worst thing he could possibly do: He’d used violence against a Pack member.
It didn’t matter that it was the kind of safe, symbolic violence that would be permissible in a wolf pack — it was not permissible in his Pack, and he knew it. But what else could he have done?
Uncle Ted was a threat. He’d approached the Pack. Thor had to be there. He couldn’t leave the Pack unguarded with a threat in its midst.
Teddy had blocked the way. He had tried to get past Teddy, he had to. What else could he have done? He had to get into the kitchen.
But biting Teddy was wrong, and nothing could ever make it right. It was the worst thing he’d ever done.
He could hear the Pack talking about his Badness, and he heard no kind words or forgiving tones. He became convinced that the door at the top of the stairs would never open again. He would never again be welcomed into the Pack, never again feel the warmth of the Pack’s love.
He felt a terrible emptiness inside, and his chest felt tight, as if something were squeezing it, keeping him from taking a full breath. His body trembled uncontrollably, though he didn’t feel cold. He felt like he was shrinking inside. Somehow, he was getting smaller and smaller inside his own body.
How long could this go on? Could he possibly feel this horrible forever? Anything would be better than this enormous, oppressive aloneness that didn’t let him breathe.
There was only one hope: forgiveness from the Pack Leader. The die had been cast, and his fate was in Dad’s hands. If Dad didn’t forgive him, he could never be part of the Pack again.
Time seemed to stand still while he lay in the shadows, trapped in the limbo of the unloved and unlovable.
* * * *
Upstairs, the discussion wasn’t nearly as one-sided as Thor imagined.
Dad examined Teddy’s wrist. Two rows of deep indentations crossed his arm where Thor’s teeth had caught it, but there was no break in the skin, no blood. Dad understood that Thor had bitten Teddy exactly as hard as he’d intended, as a warning and not to do serious harm, but he was still angry and worried. There was no reason for Thor’s strange behavior, and his behavior was getting more erratic every day.
Why was Thor following Uncle Ted in the first place? He’d never seen Thor do anything like it before. What was going on? If only he could ask him . . .
But he couldn’t, and Thor’s behavior put a genuine scare into him. Was the dog sick?
And more important, was he becoming a danger to the family?
Dad didn’t want to consider that last possibility, but once it entered his mind it wouldn’t go away.
Nonetheless, he was not willing to believe it on the basis of what he’d seen. If it was true, and Thor was a threat to the family, there was only one thing to do, and he wasn
’t ready to do that yet, not by a long shot.
Besides, he told himself, it was a stupid mistake to tell Teddy to block the dog’s way. He’d seen the way Teddy and Thor had fallen out lately, and he’d lectured Teddy more than once in the last month about not teasing the dog. Stupid, really stupid.
But Thor’s reaction . . .
Once before, when Thor was a pup, he’d bitten Teddy the same way — tooth marks, but no blood — after Teddy had teased him too much. Dad had disciplined Thor and Teddy and the incident was never repeated — until today.
But Thor was a pup then, not a powerful brute capable of injuring or killing. If Thor were to go bonkers, he could conceivably kill the whole family.
It was Thor’s love for the family and his deep sense of responsibility that made him safe to live with. Could those qualities be slipping?
It was too scary to think about. And too awful. Of course Thor could be trusted. Strange behavior or not, Thor loved the family, Dad was sure.
What to do?
* * * *
Thor spent just over two hours in the cellar. What little sunlight filtered through the small, dusty windows was beginning to fade. He felt thankful for the deepening shadows that engulfed him.
Suddenly the latch on the cellar door clicked and the door swung open, and a shaft of electric light pierced the darkness, jolting Thor out of his meditation of despair.
“Thor!”
Dad’s voice was stern but not outraged. Was that a trace of forgiveness in his voice? Thor haltingly lifted himself off the floor on trembling legs.
“Thor! Come up here!”
He ran up the stairs, a bundle of mixed emotions. He knew forgiveness was a possibility, but amends had to be made first. And even if he was forgiven, he would have to prove all over again that he was worthy to live with the Pack.
All he wanted was a chance to prove it.
He slowed down as he neared the top of the stairs. Dad was standing there with a rolled-up newspaper in his hand. Thor held his head and body close to the stairs, his ears flat, and his tail tucked between his legs. His tail felt no urge to wag, even involuntarily. It was much too soon for that.
“Come up here,” Dad said, his voice still stern and formal.
Thor crawled through the doorway with his body low, his eyes nervously scanning the floor. He didn’t even dare to look at Dad’s face.
Teddy stood in the dining room with his sleeve rolled up to expose his wrist; Uncle Ted was nowhere in sight. Dad grabbed a handful of loose skin on the back of Thor’s neck (not his collar — a very good sign), dragged him away from the doorway, and closed the cellar door (another good sign). Thor’s tail thumped the floor in fits and jerks, embarrassing him.
“Are you going to be a Good Dog?” Dad asked.
Thor didn’t move, but his tail beat a rapid tattoo.
“Are you?” Dad demanded, slapping his own thigh impatiently with the newspaper.
YES, YES, YES, YES, YES!
“Come over here.”
Dad walked into the dining room where Teddy waited.
Oh, no.
“Get over here!” Thor thought he heard an unspoken “Bad Dog” on the end of Dad’s sentence. He almost wished he was back in the cellar, but he obeyed. He dragged himself into the dining room like a soldier crawling under barbed wire.
“Teddy, hold your arm out,” Dad said.
Dad cupped Thor’s chin in his hand and lifted his nose up to Teddy’s wrist. Thor was too ashamed to look directly at the boy’s arm; he got the message.
“You see that?” Dad demanded.
“NO!” he said, punctuating the awful word with a newspaper swat on Thor’s snout. The newspaper hardly hurt; its real function was to make a loud smack as it hit him. The punishment was psychological; that Dad would want to hit him for any reason hurt more than any physical pain. He trembled violently as he braced himself for the blows.
“NO!”
Swat!
“NO!”
Swat!
“NO!”
Swat!
“NO!”
Swat!
“Understand?”
YES, YES, YES, YES, YES! his tail answered.
“All right.” Dad released Thor’s head and tossed the newspaper aside.
“Are you going to be a Good Dog?” Dad asked again. Thor answered by wagging his tail and frantically licking Dad’s hands.
“Don’t tell me, tell Teddy,” Dad said sternly, pointing to his son. Thor wheeled around and licked Teddy’s hands twice, then came back to Dad, showering his hands with desperate kisses.
“You tell Teddy you’re sorry,” Dad repeated, and pushed him toward Teddy. Again, Thor kissed Teddy’s hands briefly and came back to Dad.
He could apologize to Teddy forever, but Teddy couldn’t forgive him. Only Dad could do that.
“Okay,” Dad said, giving in at last. “But you better be Good from now on.” Thor involuntarily leaped up and planted a kiss on Dad’s mouth.
“Stop it!” Dad said sharply, but without real anger.
The session was over. Thor felt as if he were climbing out of his own grave, into sunshine he’d never expected to see again. He was forgiven, but he would have to be extra careful from now on. He still had to prove he was a Good Dog.
Dad walked to the back door and opened it.
“Out you go,” he said. Thor nearly leaped from the dining room to the back door in one bound.
* * * *
Tom watched him run into the backyard, torn by self doubts. He wasn’t at all sure he’d made the right decision.
Maybe it had been a mistake to get a German shepherd in the first place. He’d often heard German shepherds can be “over-protective.”
And aside from the breed being too protective, Thor himself was acting strange. He’d always loved Ted, but ever since Ted came to stay with them Thor had treated him like a total stranger.
Tom didn’t want to think he might be endangering his family by giving Thor a second chance. He tried to block it out, but it was there, unspoken, in the back of his mind.
Chapter 12
Thor was relieved to be outside, where he could better protect the Pack. He could already feel the Bad Thing coming again. The sky was darkening fast, but the moon would soon rise, bringing its cold brilliance to the night. He started across the yard to the garage, when something startled him.
A bright white spot shot across the grass from behind the garage, then darted back again. Kitty was practicing pouncing on some imaginary prey. Thor worried for her safety. He trotted over and tried to muzzle her in the direction of the house, but the kitten resisted, playfully taking a swing at his nose. He barked once, quickly remembered the trouble he’d gotten into for barking lately, and whined and mewled at her instead. Misunderstanding him completely, she leaped at his face, but he dodged the attack and she hit the ground and rolled a few feet.
It was no use. He’d tried once before to herd the kitten into the house, and all he got for his efforts was a row of painful scratches across his nose. The kitten would not be herded.
But the Bad Thing was coming. Thor wasn’t sure how to handle the situation, but at least he knew where the Bad Thing would come from.
He walked to the foot of the garage stairs and waited. He could hear Uncle Ted moving around inside. He felt an urge to run up the stairs and bark at him, to order him to stay inside, but he didn’t dare. Following his urges had gotten him in big trouble lately. Holding his urges in check was absolutely essential.
So he sat on the grass and waited as the sky darkened.
He didn’t have to wait long. Uncle Ted opened the door and stepped onto the landing in a brand-new sweatsuit. He took one step, saw Thor, and stopped short. A worried look crossed his face and he turned and went back inside, closing the door behind him. A few seconds later he pulled a drape away from a window and checked the landing at the top of the stairs, obviously expecting to see Thor there.
But Thor was s
till on the grass. Uncle Ted closed the drape.
Thor looked back at the house, hoping to see Dad in the kitchen doorway. If only he could tell Dad the Bad Thing was coming, or at least make Dad aware of Uncle Ted’s Badness. But Dad was nowhere in sight.
A curtain moved slightly in an upstairs window of the house, but Thor didn’t see it. Peeking through the smallest possible opening in his bedroom window curtains, Brett
watched the showdown between Thor and Uncle Ted.
* * * *
Thor made himself comfortable on the grass, settling in for what he assumed would be a long wait. When Uncle Ted came out, Thor would follow him until the Bad Thing showed up, and then he would deal with the Bad Thing. If Uncle Ted managed to chain the Bad Thing to a tree, he would stand guard over it. If the Bad Thing tried to approach the house, he would attack. That was his plan. By Thor’s standards, it was pretty elaborate.
Uncle Ted looked out the window again and finally came out onto the landing. He stood there staring at Thor for a moment, then looked over his shoulder at the blackening eastern horizon, where the moon would rise in a matter of minutes. With a look of resignation on his face, he tentatively started down the stairs, pausing briefly on each step to watch Thor’s reaction.
Thor sat in place, watching him.
The trip down the stairs seemed to take forever, but Uncle Ted eventually set foot on the pavement, less than three feet from Thor, who sat motionless the whole time.
Slightly emboldened and growing more desperate by the second, Uncle Ted cautiously began walking toward the woods. Thor immediately got up and followed him, maintaining a constant distance of about ten feet between them.
Uncle Ted turned on him angrily with his arm held out straight, pointing to the house.
“Go home!” he snapped.
Bluffing.
